


I think it's time for me to move on.

by Sincc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:24:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21720292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincc/pseuds/Sincc
Summary: Spoilers season 15.Castiel after he decides to move on.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 3





	1. Moving on.

The air was heavy as the angel headed outside from the bunker. The gust of wind caught his long beige coat and tussled his hair around. The goodbye was still heavy in his chest. It was not like any other ones they had before. It was worse. Way worse. His powers were slowly seeping away. His pride and his self image were failing. And he'd tried, so many times to try to talk to Dean. He begged for his approval and his friendship. The profound bond between the two. Which had been rapidly decreasing as things started going bad. That itself? It broke Castiel. It broke him beyond badly. He used to be able to stare into those green eyes and hear those witty jokes. Bad puns. Everything that used to be a thing between the two. Now here he was. Having said those heavy words. ''I think it's time for me to move on.'' And that was it. There was no complaint, there was nothing said back. The hunter watched him walk out of the bunker and didn't stop him. So that was truly it. He hadn't had the chance to say goodbye to Sam either. But that was because he couldn't. Knowing that he'd easily talk him into staying there. But .. He couldn't stay. Not knowing how terribly disappointed he was in him. How much he blamed him for everything going wrong.

The loss of Jack had been hard on him. The betrayal of God, Chuck. Knowing that he never cared, he never loved his creations. He loved creating his own twisted story. He didn't care about the angels. He didn't care about the archangels. He didn't even care about his own sister. He was a writer. All these thoughts conflicted the angel's poor head as he walked a few steps out from his former home. Every single word he had said was true. The brothers had each other. They got each other's backs. The angel had basically nothing else. He took in a deep breath and shut his eyes tightly. There was no way for him to shake the heavy guilt in his chest. At first, he loved how human he had become, how much of hunter he'd become. Now, with his grace failing. He could not handle the emotions. All he wanted to do was talk to the man he raised from perdition as he normally did. But he couldn't. All he was left with was just himself. A lone angel in a large coat. Left to wander the earth.

And so he did.

The journey started slow. He had to make a plan for himself. Much like when he lost his grace after Metatron cast him down. The first thing he did was wander down the street leading to a nearby small town. Using his powers to fly around was pointless. He would end up without his grace completely and he would get lost again. So he walked, even if it took hours. His legs started aching after a while. But he didn't stop. When he left the bunker, it was later in the evening. Now the sky was pitch black. Covered in some light gray clouds, making everything seem more dull and lifeless. Much like how the angel felt in his chest. The image of Belphegor in his head, using Jack's body. Seeing life fade away as he smote him in pure anger. It wasn't just the demon itself, it was the death of his former vessel. Which he'd seen die by the hand of God himself, just a couple of days ago. Just days. He'd seen his son die twice. Once by his own hands. It was painful. Castiel arrived by a motel, a standard run-down looking one. Ones that the Winchesters normally stayed in when they were out on missions. His blue eyes scanned the parking lot, three cars were parked outside. Sadly not a 67 Chevy Impala. With a deep sigh, he made his way over to the main area where the reception desk was located. A younger-looking male was sitting behind a run down and a rather filthy desk, fingers tapping the keyboard of his computer. Barely paying much attention to the man who had just come into his office.

''Hello.'' The angel said in a rather dull tone. ''I'd like a room.'' The human behind the computer didn't even attempt to lift his head from the screen that he was intently staring at. The light of the monitor reflecting in his round glasses. ''Uh-huh. why else would you show up here?'' A rather snarky response bounced back. Which made Castiel roll his eyes and dig his hand into his pocket. Grabbing a fistful of his own stored bills. Which he didn't bother to count, he just put them on the top of the counter.

The teenager hadn't even looked at him, he just reached up and grabbed the money, then reached back and got a random key from a big racket of many keys. Tossing it at the man in the trench coat. Which he caught without any problem, and turned around and left. Walking right out into the pitch darkness of the night. He lifted his keys up and looked at the faded number on the keychain, which was hard to read in the dark. But he managed to see a faint number 15 on it. The keys, the rooms, the reception, clearly none of them was worth the money he just wasted. But he was not there to go back and argue with that employee. He was clearly not happy there either. The angel just needed a bed and rest some. Then he would hotwire a car and get away from the area. That was the not so fail-safe plan. Just getting away was not the same as moving on. He walked until he found the door labeled as 15. He pushed the door handle down slowly and peeked into the room. It was exactly as expected. A gloomy run down room, the furniture was caked in dust and there was no way that they had cleaned in there for ages. But he could not afford to have any standards, nothing could compare to his room in the bunker.

_Bunker.._

He closed the door behind him as he sighed deeply. Leaning his whole weight against it. Staring up at the ceiling. He felt offended just by gazing in the direction of heaven. The direction of where God placed himself.

_Betrayal. Confusion. Loss. Pain._

His eyes shut slowly and he felt like he was there for hours. Just going through all the thoughts that assaulted his head. Broke his heart. The angel reopened his eyes and walked over to the rustic looking bed, sheets that looked like a very old person would enjoy. Flowers, odd shapes, dull colors. It did fit if you took a look at the colors of the walls and carpets. But it was not pretty, nor looking like something he could stare at for too long. He sat down slowly on the edge of the bed and laid down moments later. It was uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. The matress was stiff, the whole room stunk of old age and some other things that he had a hard time pinpointing exactly. Within a halfhour of silence, he began to slowly drift off to sleep. However, he didn't sleep well. Nightmares, horrible images flashed before his eyes. Visions from hell, visions of Jack's eyes burning out, twice. The second time it was worse. His whole body burning to ash underneath his glowing palm. Feeling that anger, that pain, and that deeply rooted suffering. What woke him up, however was those words coming out of Dean's mouth just before he walked away. ''Why is that something always seem to be you?'' His eyes flicked open, his breathing was heavy and ragged. Tears stung in the corners of his eyes. He felt like he was suffocating, drowning in his sorrows.

Getting on the road and taking off was the only option left to do. With a grunt, he rolled out of bed and stood up. Correcting his coat. Glancing over at a small clock that stood on the table by the bed. Showing him that it was very early in the morning. Which was a perfect time to steal a car and take off. It wasn't like the people working there would care or even be up at this hour. After a few thoughts passed his mind, he walked out of the room and faced the parking lot, that was basking in the faint morning light. The ground was covered in some puddles and it became clear to him that a storm probably rolled by during the night. Stepping over one of the larger ones that had formed right outside of his room, he walked until he came to the closest car. He used his grace and appeared inside in the driver's seat. Bending down enough to start messing with the wires under the dashboard. When all of a sudden, his phone started buzzing in his pocket. A heavy feeling in his chest welled up. There were very few people who had his number. Very few texted or called him, to begin with. He wasn't especially social either. So with a loud gulp, he reached into his pocket and dragged out his phone. Seeing the screen made him feel a whole lot of things. He wasn't quite sure if he was relieved, kind of sad, or just disappointed. The screen clearly read 'New Text Message from Sam'.

'Hey Cass. I noticed you were gone. I never saw you leave, everything okay?'


	2. Chapter 2

The angel stared at the screen, just blankly. Sam was a very good friend of his. And he badly wanted to reply and tell him that everything is fine. The poor man had just lost a whole lot too. He was grieving as much as all of them. But for some reason, he could not bring himself to reply. He simply put his phone on the seat next to him and sucked in a long shaky breath. Everything was far from fine. And could he really explain what happened between him and Dean? He didn't want him to get upset at him. They needed each other. They had each other. He directed his attention back to the car again. Pulling loose some cables and other parts. Using the knowledge that he'd gained during his years with hunters that loved hotwiring cars left and right. His mind wandering and wandering, going back and forth. He was again scared by a buzz from the phone on the seat next to him. Making him almost jump out of his skin. The mobile was now buzzing without a stop. So he guessed that he was getting a call. But again. He couldn't reply. If he did, he'd be convinced to either come back to the bunker or explain the situation. The guilt that was building in him was eating him up.

He sat still as he waited and waited for the call to go to his voicemail. Not moving, not doing anything but breathing calmly. The phone stopped buzzing after a short moment, yet he sat there through it. Feeling like more time had passed than it originally had. The angel took another moment to calm down before getting back to the task at hand. Getting the car started and feeling at least a bit better about himself. Some progress. He checked around the car for any signs of any humans or activity. But the morning was calm and dead. His thoughts traveled back to the message from Sam, he did feel guilty to at the very least reply. He owed him that, right? He did. But risking getting talked into coming back was out of the question completely.

A few hours later, he was miles and miles away from any towns. Driving by country roads, fields, farmland. The view would have been a treat for him if he wasn't in this horrible state of mind. His phone had buzzed a few times during his trip. This time, however, he didn't look at it. Even debating if he should turn it off. Even if he should throw it out the window of the car. But that would end up bad for him. He had to make sure that if anything would happen, he could contact the Winchesters. Or at least Sam. He would leave Dean to calm down. Which he knew by default that he would be angry for a very long time. He still blamed him for the death of Mary. And he was sure he also blamed himself at this point. Too many deaths laid on their shoulders. The angel's thoughts drifted away as his blue eyes just watched the empty road in front of his stolen car. The sun was slowly climbing up over the sky. He really needed a way to ease all the dark thoughts, and not doing anything was not the way out. Maybe he could take on a case by himself? Be a hunter? Surely he could try and act like one and perhaps gain some new contacts. As long as his grace kept up and he didn't waste his energy on smiting beings. He would do good stepping away from himself and blend in as a hunter. Detach himself from his whole angelic being. The car passed a sign by the road, a small town, which kind of piqued his interest. Somehow. He decided to take the next road off and into said town. It was far from dead, the streets seemed to be buzzing with activity. Families wandered around, holding their kids and smiling. The angel actually had to slow down his car and watch as they seemed completely oblivious to how horrible reality was.

But this was what he wanted too, just detach and move on. He had to move on. He pulled the car to a stop and unlocked the door, stepping out on the street. Almost bumping into a small boy who was skipping along with his mother. The boy ended up brushing across his coat and giggled. Seemingly amused by the floppy fabric. The mother gave him a smile and tightened her grip around his small hand. Nodding her head to Castiel as a small 'I'm sorry.' The town had a unique charm to it, without a doubt. Maybe it was the very human aspect of it. Nobody would know who or what he was. Perhaps it was his way out? To lay low and focus fully on something else. That thought took quickly over his head, replacing his former plan of going hunting. Leaving the stolen car behind, he started walking down the street. Staring into the various windows and shops. Small spaces crammed to the brim with tourist items and small toys. Things he never really cared about. Humans seemed to love them, however. There were a few humans walking out of the shop that he'd been awkwardly staring into. Bags in their hands. A curious object stuck out of the top. He tilted his head to the side and squinted his eyes. A colorful fishing rod? A toy? Perhaps.

Which sparked another thought in his mind..

Dean always talked about how fishing soothed him.

_Dean.._

Damn it.


	3. Chapter 3

The angel shook his head rapidly as he'd been blankly staring at one spot for a while. The family had left ages ago. He sighed heavily and continued his walk down the street. Almost as a miracle, a fishing shop laid ahead. It was all unfolding perfectly in front of him. He put his hand on the door and pushed it. But it didn't move. He frowned and pushed on it again. No movement. His frown deepened and he stepped back. Seeing a sign hanging there. 'Pull.' He rolled his eyes and pulled the door open instead. The shop was surprisingly well put together. Many shelves with various tools for fishing. ''Welcome!'' A rather chipper voice came across the room and caught his attention. ''What can I help you with?'' The store owner was smiling brightly at him. Standing behind his cash register. ''Actually.. I do think you can help me get started.''

The man's smile widened as he nodded. ''Certainly! New to the aspects of fishing?'' Castiel shrugged and walked closer. ''New to town, new to.. Everything.'' He admitted and let out a small laugh. ''Oh? Welcome. Glad to see new faces. People come and they go.'' The shopkeeper seemed friendly enough so he started relaxing more. ''Where did you move in? Close by the lake?'' Move in? He hadn't.. Another thing on the list for him to actually go through with.

''I'm looking for a place.'' Came the answer. ''Where could I go for that?''

Fast forward to maybe a day later, and he'd managed to get a hold of a man who rented out a cabin. And surprisingly, it was rather easy. Just use a fake name, just sign up as this second name that he'd been given once. Clarence. It started with the same letter, and he didn't feel like using his vessel's name either. Jimmy. No, starting new.

_Moving on.._

The town was very small, so he gradually made himself a part of it. He got to talk a whole lot with the guy from the fishing store, Andy. He had to come for his supplies. And fishing had a therapeutic essence. Not exactly what he wanted, though. He felt like he got more and more anxious. One evening, he sat by the lake and had his fishing hook out in the water. Watching the sun slipping down over the sky. Seeming like he had no luck, absolutely no fish was biting today. The angel sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. His tired blue eyes watching the line disappearing into the water. With little to no other movements. Was the fish getting smarter? The day before he caught almost 6 fishes. And he just released them back into the water. It was pointless for him to kill them. He didn't need food, and he wasn't there to disrupt nature. And his emotions were still swimming around in his head. With a sigh, he pulled the rod back, removing the hook from the lake. Placing it down next to his wooden chair. It was about time to go and get some hours of sleep. Even if he didn't sleep well. It was mostly flashes of bad memories and him tossing and turning in bed. He pushed himself up from the chair with another sigh. Walking slowly over to his small cabin.

It was very small, very limited furniture, a big furnace which he really liked. He thought the sounds of the fire were special. The soft popping and the way the flames danced as he tried to calm down and fall asleep. The angel opened his door and stepped inside. Heading directly to his bed. As he walked over, he began to shred off his large coat and placed it neatly on a chair that he passed. Laying down on top of his covers, placing his hands over his own belly. This would be another long night.


End file.
